


Keep You Warm

by justanothersong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Naked Cuddling, Rain, Reader-Insert, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 22:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5181944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothersong/pseuds/justanothersong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damn you, Tom Hiddleston.</p><p>Suggested Pairings for this Story:<br/>Hot Chocolate or Hot Chai Tea<br/>Rainy Days<br/>Ed Sheeran “Kiss Me”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep You Warm

It’s raining again. Somehow, that doesn’t surprise you. The clouds have been grey for days, the rain coming and going intermittently, an early autumn chill in the air. Today it was colder than usual, and though you love to watch the rain, for some reason, it was getting you down. 

The day had been a little frustrating. Dedicating a full day to running errands never seemed to go well, and today was no exception to the rule. The DMV closed earlier than you expected, and you couldn’t get the new registration stickers for your car; a few days more and you’d wind up with a ticket, you were sure of it. They’d made a mistake on your photo order at the drugstore, and all your prints were too small for the frames you had purchased, and the cleaners couldn’t get the stain out of your favorite coat. The weather had made everyone a little less pleasant, and you’d argued over parking spaces and who was ahead of who in line twice already.

By the time you pulled into your garage, you were feeling pretty down. The radio was playing a sad song, and though you usually loved to listen to Ed Sheeran, you just couldn’t take A-Team today; you turned it off with a sigh, driving mindlessly to your usual parking place, only to find it taken by one of your neighbor’s friends. Typical.

A notice was pinned to the front door of your apartment, telling you that the building’s furnace was being serviced and there would be no heat or hot water until tomorrow morning. It figured.

Shivering, the cool air in the building causing a chill on your damp skin, you unlocked the door and dropped your bag on the kitchen counter with a sigh, glancing out at the view of the city that you usually loved, only to see the gloom you hadn’t been able to shake all day.

The apartment was cold, no surprise with the building’s furnace on the fritz again; it was just cold enough outside to seep inside and make your twelfth floor flat feel like an icebox. It would be a night spent buried beneath your blankets, pillows piled high for the warmth, and to feel a little less alone.

You knew that was the crux of the problem, much as you tried to pretend it was the rain and the inconveniences of the day; it was always hard when he was away, when your home seemed a little too empty without him there.

 

You supposed it was something of a give and take. Tom is… well, wonderful. You love him. And you know that he loves you. Most days, you are happier than words could truly express. But there are always those days where he is gone, where he has been gone for weeks, off filming and going on press tours and doing all of the varied crazy things that film stars have to do these days. You loved Tom, but you didn’t love that you had to share him with the world, at least not on those days when the rain won’t end and you’re cold and feeling down.

You sighed again, pulling your damp sweater over your head and pulling the clip from your hair to let the wet tresses hang messy and loose. You had just decided to give up on the day, slip into your warmest pair of pajamas and hide under a few blankets on the couch, watching some mindless television until you feel asleep, when you heard the soft click of the bedroom door opening.

He had been sleeping; you could tell by his mussed hair, the way he walked with the sleepy stiffness of someone who had rested too long in the same position. He wore only a pair of his flannel pajama pants, the ones that were old and a little bit threadbare, but so soft and comfortable that he couldn’t bear to throw them away.

He smiled when he spotted you. “Hello, love,” he said softly.

“Tom!” you cry out in surprise.

You launch yourself across the room and throw your arms around him with force enough to make him take a step back, chuckling softly even as he did and circling his arms around your waist. You kiss him long and deep, a gesture eagerly returned, until you both pause, needing air. Tears slip from your eyes and he holds you closer, pressing your foreheads together.

“Shh, no, don’t cry,” he says softly, the brightness of unshed tears in his own eyes belying his words. Your reunions are always like this, so fraught with emotion as to draw tears even on joyous occasions. He rubs a soothing circle on your back and presses another chaste kiss to your lips. “Don’t cry,” he repeats.

“I didn’t know you were coming home, why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, the sudden burst of tears giving way to effervescent joy bubbling in your chest. “I’d have stayed home, made dinner, or we could have gone out…”

He smiles. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said. He pulls away just slightly and takes your hands in his, and you suddenly remember how cold you are, and how wet from the rain.

He seems to read your thoughts. “Come with me,” he tells you, and turns to walk back into your bedroom, one hand still clasped in yours.

 

It’s nothing but comfort and sweetness when he begins to undress you, pulling the damp t-shirt from where the rain soaked through your sweater over your head and tossing it to the floor, an uncharacteristically slovenly move for him. The cool air of the dark room drew out goosebumps on your skin, and when you shivered he paused in his machinations to run his hands down your sides and drop a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

He drops his hands to the button of your jeans, still damp in the legs from the rain and soaked through at the ankle, and makes quick work of the fly and zipper, letting them fall and puddle around your ankles. You step out of the drenched fabric, kicking away your sneakers and toeing out of your socks as you do.

You feel his eyes on you then, as you shiver in the stillness of the darkened room. His gaze rakes down your form before sweeping up again, and the sudden heat in his eyes takes you by surprise. You become suddenly very aware of how exposed you are, of how long he had been away, and before you know it, you are swept up in Tom’s arms. 

Long elegant fingers slide across your bare skin, and even in the chill of the room you feel a burning warmth spark to life deep inside you. When you kiss, something inside you shatters, and you feel the wet of tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“No, please,” he says softly, breaking the kiss and pulling just slightly away. “Please don’t cry.”

You smile, even through your tears, and lean into his embrace. “I’m just so glad you’re home,” you reply with a slow sigh.

He is home, really home for a change; you could tell by the bristle of his stubble against your cheeks and the curl to his ginger hair. Work always kept him clean-shaven, hair dyed, face pale and angry… it turned him into someone else, but now he was home, and he was Tom again. He was yours again.

He breaks the embrace for only a moment, and the t-shirt he pulls over your head is soft and warm from his own body heat, clearly recently discarded. It fits but it doesn’t, a man’s shirt that pulls and stretches at your hips and breasts but lays loose against your arms and abdomen. It still smells like him.

Taking your hand in his, he guides you to your bed, and you slide in between the cool sheets and thick comforter, with Tom closing the space behind you. When he pulls up the covers it as though he shutting the rest of the world out, just the two of you wrapped in the warmth of your secret hiding place, the sound of rain on the roof lulling you both into a comfortable silence.

You feel his breath against your lips as you fall asleep and though you know that he will have to leave again, that every day draw you apart into new ventures and possibilities, you will always come back to this.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not much one for reader insert but once it was in my head, I couldn't get rid of it.  
> With apologies to Mr. Hiddleston, of course.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://literatec.tumblr.com) if you wish.


End file.
